Delusions
by chelseyelizabeth
Summary: Mary Alice Brandon is 15 and something strange happens just before her birthday. Visions, beginning in soft pictures which she finds do come true although decisions change. How does she survive? What happened to Aloce before she became Alice Cullen?
1. Chapter 1

"When did you first experience there delusions, Miss Brandon?" he asked, scratching the chin that was invisible beneath a thick grey beard.

"Visions" I corrected, smoothing the lace hem of my drop waist dress.

"They are not _visions_, Miss Brandon, they are _delusions_" he replied. He dragged out the word _delusions_ so it sounded as if he was speaking to an imbecile. Perhaps he thought he was.

I grimaced and turned my head away from him and towards the grandfather clock across the red room. Tick-tick-tick. How I wished time would move faster, all I wanted was to go home.

The man sighed, sitting up a little straighter, if possible in his rigid chair. "Visions then, Miss Brandon. When did you fist experience these visions?"

"Two weeks before my last birthday" I replied, biting the corner of my lip, wishing that the floor would open up and save me. But as much as I wanted to be away from this place, I had to hold back a smirk because I knew I was in control.

"And when was this?" he looked deathly bored.

"Three months ago" _idiot. Didn't you read my file?_ I just wanted to run. I smiled at him angelically; it seemed to annoy him, which was mildly entertaining.

"And how old are you, Miss Brandon?" he scribbled on his notepad, as if he actually had something to say.

"Seventeen, sir"

"And would you please describe this vision for me?" his boredom was comical.

"I saw what Mama and Daddy would buy me for my birthday." I almost smiled, thinking of the silver comb and brush set, the way the soft bristles made my long black hair shimmer like glass.

"What was the gift?"

"A brush set. It was lovely." I could swear he almost fell asleep.

"And you are sure you never saw this set before? You never dreamed of having a set like this?" At least he wrote something down this time.

"Sir, my father sells life insurance. I never dreamed of something so lovely. I tried to act surprised but Mama saw through it. I'm not a very good actress" I shrugged.

"How did your mother feel about this?"

"She wanted to know why. I told her I saw her buy it and she started screaming and crying. They bought the set in New York sir, several weeks ago, and I was here with Cynthia at my aunt's house while they were away. She called me a horrid girl and a liar. It was Mama who demanded I be sent here." I sighed. This speech had exhausted me. After the visions, I didn't speak to people very often anymore. Only Cynthia.

His fingers tried to catch up with my explanation as he asked his next question. "But this wasn't the end of your delusions?" I raised my eyebrow and he stumbled over his words. "Visions, end of your visions."

"No" I sighed. "I see lots of things, when Mama will get her hair cut, whenever Cynthia will throw a fit in school. I always can see the weather now. Like when a storm will come" I explain. _If only you knew the things I see. If you just understood._

"But you don't think you are merely connecting information and guessing patterns?"

"No sir." He looks interested now so I decide to try to be helpful. "I see visions like a path and what will happen if those decisions are made. When decisions change, the future changes as well."

"Have you had any visions lately" He asks, his eyes intent.

"Yes" my voice coming out in a whisper. I try to shut my eyes against the pictures, the noise, the nightmare that haunts my days and nights. I twist a black curl around my forefinger and try to meet his gaze. "I know that Mama is going to send me away. To the asylum."


	2. Chapter 2

I clung to my father's long trench coat against the rain and the wind, my tears leaving mismatched patterns on the sleeve. Nurses in white took my valise from my hand and began to send my things inside.

"No daddy!" I screamed, trembling with terror. "Please Daddy,don't leave me here!"

The nurse with red hair took my hands and peeled them off his arm. A man with hands cold and hard as ice took my other arm and began to lead me away. I wrenched away from them both and tried to see my father as he hurried back to the car. His face was solemn, ashamed. My mother looked almost pleased in the front seat, proud to have won this fight. Cynthia had her face pressed against the window, her little hands trying to pull it down. I stopped fighting for a moment and tried to smile at her, to let her know that I would be okay, but I felt the smile sour on my face as the car drove away.

As soon as they were driving I stopped fighting altogether. I just stood there, numb, trying to forget them, trying to not feel anything. I let them take me away from the steps and into the towering brick fortress which was to be my prison.

They led me through grey halls and to a room with a large chair. I started to shake. _Electroshock therapy._ New tears slipped down as I anticipated the pain that would come.

A woman in the corner smiled at me, understanding my fear. "Honey, we are just gonna get you in some comfortable clothes and cut your hair so it's a little easier for you. Is that alright?"

I tried to nod and she had me sit still for a moment while a man in black came in. He took away my pretty pink dress and had me slip on a white gown, something like a nightgown or chemise. It itched. The nurses watched with needles and clasps ready as I was forced to sit still as the man slowly cut off my hair. One by one he shaved off the glassy black curls that had been my one beauty. When they lead me to my cell, I caught a glimpse of myself in a barred window and screamed. Without my hair there was nothing to hide my face from the horror it had become. My lips were chewed to bits from the screams I fought back with each new vision, my eyes invisible above deep purple rings the nightmares had etched into my skin. My cheeks were ashen and I looked dead already.

The cells and rooms are windowless. Without the light, a bit of sunshine, all hope has died. The people here are strange and they scream and fight, and hurt each other. I sit in a corner in the "Fellowship Hall", rubbing my small embroidered handkerchief for hours, waiting to die. It only takes six days to fall entirely into the madness that has slowly crawled beneath my skin. I do not resurface.


End file.
